


Luck

by tstansetis



Series: Aedan Trevelyan [4]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Tranquil Inquisitor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 10:38:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5413679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tstansetis/pseuds/tstansetis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lucky coin that Cullen gave the Inquisitor means the world to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Luck

**Author's Note:**

> I got the little romance scene at the lake where Cullen gives the Inquisitor his lucky coin, and I drabbled this on my phone. NonBeta'd, but I figured I'd post it.  
> Aedan Trevelyan is my mage Inquisitor

He keeps the coin on a slim chain beneath his clothes, so that he can feel the metal pressed against his skin.

During war meetings, he looks up at Cullen and becomes more aware of the slight weight around his neck - more aware of what it symbolizes as Cullen’s eyes meet his, honey golden and filled with adoration.

He keeps it beneath his robes when he ventures from Skyhold, feels the raised letters against his flesh as he moves and twirls his staff in the heat of battle, and he knows that Cullen is there, with him, even when he isn’t.

When the sunburst is etched into his forehead, still, he wears the chain - though the emotional meaning is just out of grasp, just beyond his understanding, he remembers a time when it meant the world to him, and he wears it still, because Commander Cullen assures him every day that, soon, he’ll be able to grasp it once more.

And that day does come, and the return of that understanding is more valuable to him than even the return of his magic.

He tucks it beneath his formal shirt at Halamshiral, and when the evening becomes overwhelming, he takes a moment to duck around a corner and press his hand to his chest, so that he can feel the coin beneath his shirt, feel the small amount of comfort there.

When he’s falling, falling, falling from the high tower at Adamant Fortress, he curls in on himself, the fingers of his unmarked hand clutching desperately at the coin beneath his clothing. The anchor begins to glow, and he prays desperately to Andraste that he will see his beloved again as he stretches his hand out and wills something to happen, because Maker knows he can’t die here, cannot leave Cullen all alone.

When he opens his eyes in the Fade, his fingers are still curled around the coin. He can feel the weight of it as their party ventures forward, as the fear demon weaves its lies, as it tells him that Cullen can never possibly love him.

But that weight says differently.

For luck, Cullen had said.

Oh, but it is so much more than luck.

 

 


End file.
